[A Guide to Parenting - Chapter 04 - Education] One of the key factors in proper child rearing is the practice of direct teaching. A child will learn much more readily if a task is shown to them in person by their caretaker, rather than simply explained in a book. Not only is learning by doing a far more effective system of education than theoretical learning, but this process is amplified if the teacher is a person of interest for the ward.
“Turn it to the right,” says Gottlieb, gesturing with his hand. Orbital Maintenance Crewmember Blauhausen looks at him and then back at the valve nozzle that her rubbery, floppy hand is laid out over. Doing her best to put pressure into her digits, the fingers of the glove grab the nozzle and then rotate it clockwise. “Righty tighty, lefty loosey,” explains Gottlieb.
The gurgling pipe of the wastewater recycling system lets out a series of noises, ranging from hisses to thumps, as the flow of water comes to a stop.
There’s a problem, that being that the station’s water management system was designed with the thought in mind that it would be constantly under use. However, with all of the crew missing, the system has been running the whole time while missing a critical step in its process — the usage of water. This isn’t disastrous, but it will result in problems down the line if they don’t nip it in the bud now.
She looks at him excitedly, and he nods. “Good job,” praises Gottlieb. The floppy spacesuit wobbles excitedly and then slaps itself against him, the creature inside seeking acknowledgment.
“Papa!”
“Yeah,” replies Gottlieb. He looks around the station, placing a hand on the squishy back holding him. “I don’t know how a lot of this stuff works, honestly. But we’ll figure it out together,” he explains, looking at the visor pressed against the side of his face. “It’ll be a project for us.”
“Papa!” cries the ooze, and he pats it on the back.
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[Master Seamstress Sindalio’s Swift Start to Sewing - Chapter 03 - For Tight Budgets]
Oftentimes, those who need to sew a garment the most are those with the fewest means. When times offer us only sparse resources, dull needles and coarse thread, it is important to take stock of anything else one might find in their home. Fabric does not need to come from a roll; it can also come from old clothes, curtains, and swaddling cloths. One particular anecdote of mine involves sewing an inner fur lining for my husband’s iron breastplate in the winter using our old bedroom carpet.
— But he doesn’t need to know that.
“Don’t take it off, or you’ll die,” says Gottlieb, looking down at Auxiliary Gunner Grunheide. The goblin, wearing a highly improvised space suit that is probably okay enough, presumably, is adjusting the helmet, before looking back up at him.
“So what’s outside?” she asks.
“Nothing,” replies Gottlieb, hitting the button on the airlock to close the first door. “There’s nothing outside.”
Grunheide blinks, staring at him through the visor. He bends down, clicking her helmet into place and watching as the reflection of the sealing confirmation appears on the display inside the helmet. It looks like everything is set. It took a little work, with some help from Kai and some materials from the private lockers and the station’s storage, but they managed to adjust the smallest human-sized suit on the station to be goblin-sized.
“You mean, like, a big field with just grass?” asks Grunheide.
Gottlieb shakes his head, locking on his own helmet as he hits the next button. “No,” he replies as the airlock hisses. “I mean, there’s nothing,” he explains as they head towards the door as it opens up wide, revealing a full, endless expanse of total void from here where they stand off to as far as the eye can see and then further beyond that still, towards the deepest reaches where the glow of starlight might try to dance.
The station hovers over the planet, the cannon aimed towards its surface, and he looks down at Grunheide as she stands there, lost as she sees the scale of the world before them, not over a monitor or a screen, but with her own eyes that allow it to exist in an entirely new light.
“Come on,” says Gottlieb, clicking her tether to him and then his own to the guide-railing. “We’re going to look at the gun. There’s a little work we need to do to keep things going,” he explains.
“Can I shoot it?” asks Grunheide.
“Not from out here,” he replies and she frowns, her expression changing however as she steps forward and begins to float away, the tether holding her to him. He grabs her and pulls her back down, looking at the surprised yellow eyes shining out from behind the visor. “But if you help me here, I think we can find some things for you to shoot when we get back to the station,” he affirms.
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The goblin stares at him, her face lighting up, and then she nods vigorously.
So it does work.
Gottlieb had taken a little time earlier to read through some books in the station’s digital library, like Kai had been telling him to do for ages. It turns out that during the shift to this new dimension, world, or whatever it is, the digital library had been updated with books from this world too. He doesn’t know how exactly that works, but that’s the case.
And one of these books was on goblins, and its key advice for dealing with the creatures was that they thrive on token gifts and gestures. They’re greedy little things that love mushrooms and frogs, but barring that, they’ll also accept being treated as equals by humans, who, on the surface of the world, view them as inferior creatures that are not like any of the common races of the planet. Acknowledgment.
Orbital Gunner Grunheide watches intently as he teaches what little he knows about the gun’s maintenance. It isn’t enough to fully work the gun forever, but it’s enough for now until he figures out more to keep them going for a little while.
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[The Complete Guide to Monsters for Adventurers - Section H - Harpies]
Harpies are curious creatures that display intelligence on the level of humans when it comes to their trickery and use of tools, yet when it comes to communication, they are simple and crude like any other monster of the world. We do not know why they chose to do this. The established theory is that harpy culture simply dominates any desire to engage in communication with exterior forms.
Anecdotes tell of harpies raised in captivity who will engage in conversation with humans. But upon escaping, they immediately revert to their natural ways and quickly either forget or simply entirely ignore the human tongue, speaking to their kin as if they had known how to do so all along.
We can only speculate that the harpy ‘language’ is instinct rather than something that is taught.
*SCRAW*
Gottlieb stands there before the harpy that stands on top of the monitor. Geospatial Coordinator Rotwald clicks with her mouth, spinning her head as she hisses excitedly at him, displaying her sharp talons.
The man lifts his arms, holding them out straight at his sides. He lowers himself down into a half squat and then begins to rise up again, in a sort of rising and falling gyrating motion.
The harpy stops, clicking as she watches him, and then she holds her winged arms to her side, copying his motions and synchronizing her movements with his. Gottlieb tilts his head to the side, and then she tilts her head. He wiggles his fingers, and then she wiggles her talons, doing her best to copy him.
It turns out that harpies are actually highly adaptive and social creatures. There are thousands of them in the world, and it’s not uncommon for harpy flocks to encounter one another. Over generations, nature has allowed them to develop a system of pseudocommunication. Harpies, even if they are of a different flock and feather, have found themselves able to display social intent through the process of mirroring, copying each other’s body movements to show a lack of ill will. In a way, this is the same thing that humans do, but far more direct.
What this results in is that harpy populations have exploded over generations as their warring in the skies came to an end, now that they have devised a way to show peaceful mannerisms. Most often, the harpy flocks that encounter one another will end up joining forces, even if they are of wildly different breeds. In the wild mountains of the world, harpy flocks are some of the most diverse bands of monsters, the largest containing harpies of dozens of different species.
— Gottlieb scoots an office chair over towards himself and sits down in it.
The harpy clicks and climbs down from the monitor, her long talons clacking against the metal floors of the platform as she pulls over another chair and then sits down next to him.
Gottlieb lifts a hand, turning to the monitor, and the harpy does the same.
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[The Golem’s Heart]
Author: Lilac, Lisandra
Genre: Fiction
Tags: Fantasy, Romance, Drama
A sorrowful adventurer trapped in an ancient temple wanders the ruins until he stumbles into a lonely creature that lives inside of its heart, a golem made out of a pure stone that is as hard as his heart.
Can the two of them find unlikely love in a place this deep and dark?
Gottlieb stares at the book title that had appeared on the screen. He hadn’t selected this.
The man lifts his gaze, looking at the blue light shining above his head. “Get a grip, Kai,” he says, looking at the twinkling light. “I don’t read romance.”
[Response]
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- Orbital Gunner Gottlieb does not read at all.
“Cut the shit, Kai,” says Gottlieb, leaning back and kicking his feet up. “I read more today than I ever did to get this job.”
[Response]
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- The water drainage system is now clogged. The orbital cannon is malfunctioning, despite working prior to today's ‘repairs’, and the station’s geo-spatial coordination is fully de-synchronized. The situation is extremely poor. Our outlook for survival is grim.
He points at the monitor, looking back over his shoulder at the three creatures, who are sitting in a circle and exchanging their nutri-rations with each other.
“Sure, sure, Kai,” says Gottlieb. “But what about the friendships we made along the way?”
[Correction]
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- Irrelevant. What matters is the continued functionality of the Orbital Weapons Platform. We are verging on the brink of critical systems failure. Proper repairs must be undertaken immediately.
Gottlieb nods, resting his hands behind his head. “So how did you like that ‘golem’ story, Kai?” he asks. “You wanted me to read it so we could talk about it, right?”
The station is quiet for a time, except for the continued humming of machinery.
Kai’s light deactivates as the AI shuts itself off. “Yeah, I thought so,” remarks Gottlieb, picking up his nutri-ration to eat. “I’ll look at it later.”